• Dragar the Warlord

    A cold blizzard blew through the land of Ice and Snow, freezing everything in sight. Never-ending gales and flurries swept through the cold mountain ranges, whirling through the passes, making it almost impossible to traverse. The only movement was a orange vixen jumping quietly from branch to branch, making sure her quarry couldn't see her. She was dressed in a leathery black outfit, with knifes and daggers concealed in various pockets. Strapped to her back were twin swords, poisoned with a lethal poison, capable of killing hundreds with one scratch. She was beautiful in a dangerous way, capable of tricking the roughest of guards. Her beauty disguised the coldness and cruelty inside, the ability to kill without the slightest regret. Now …

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